The CSI Who Loved Me
by Deb3
Summary: 14th in the Fearful Symmetry Series: Compared to 007, Horatio is an easy winner in Calleigh's eyes.


Title: The CSI Who Loved Me  
  
Rating: PG-13 (nothing too blatant, but tons of innuendo as befits the style of the parody)  
  
Series Recap: This is the 14th story in the Fearful Symmetry series, the 2nd in the wacky dream crossover subseries. The whole series runs Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, Sight for Sore Eyes, Trials and Tribbulations, Premonition, Do No Harm, and the CSI Who Loved Me. All archived on fanfiction.net and Lonely Road.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:M or the James Bond movies. I am making no money from this. I have unashamedly copied scenes and lines from the Spy Who Loved Me, as well as one unforgettable line from Gone with the Wind.  
  
A/N: The Spy Who Loved Me is, IMHO, neither the best Bond movie nor the best Bond (Pierce Brosnan is the best Bond, I think). I picked this one because it has the best song. Couldn't resist applying that one to Horatio. So, while I have never been able to do a song fic, this is a song- inspired fic. Also, any attempts at being serious which the movie might have tried occasionally have not carried over into the fic. Nothing here is serious. This entire story is a joke, really. If you laugh, it has achieved its purpose. Prepare for lunacy.  
  
Trivia for the Day: Albert Broccoli, the producer of the James Bond movie series, likes horses. His best racehorse, Brocco, won a million dollar race, the 1993 Breeders' Cup Juvenile, and finished 4th in the 1994 Kentucky Derby. And yes, his family some generations back was responsible for the name of the vegetable.  
  
***  
  
"Nobody does it better."  
  
The Spy Who Loved Me  
  
***  
  
As James Bond wrapped his arms smoothly around his woman of the moment and the credits began to roll, Horatio Caine wrapped his arms more securely around his woman of a lifetime. "Mmm," he sighed contentedly. "There's only one problem with our current scene, Calleigh."  
  
Whatever it was, Calleigh didn't want to know. She snuggled against him, getting as close as she could when she was heavily pregnant, burying her head in his shoulder so that her words were muffled. "What's that?"  
  
"The movie is over." He made it sound like an insurmountable difficulty.  
  
"Who cares?" She certainly didn't.  
  
"One of us is going to have to let go with at least one hand to get the remote and turn the TV off."  
  
"Why?" Calleigh kissed his throat lightly, succeeding in distracting him.  
  
"Mmm," he said again. "Might not be such a problem after all."  
  
Rosalind settled the moment herself by stretching out and working one foot along Calleigh's ribs. Calleigh straightened up with a gasp. "Now listen, young lady, you'll have plenty of chances to interrupt us. You don't have to get a head start."  
  
Horatio joined his hands gently across Calleigh's, helping her work the foot back down. "She's precocious, anyway."  
  
"And impatient. She keeps trying to enlarge her living quarters, I think."  
  
Horatio rubbed her abdomen sympathetically. "Not much longer."  
  
"Which one of us are you talking to?"  
  
"Both of you. The only two women in my life." He kissed Calleigh again. "You're still first, though. She'll have to settle for a close second." His eyes were bright with anticipation. "I used to dream of this, Cal. My perfect soulmate, having my child. And since the day I met you, there was never any other woman in the dream."  
  
She snuggled back against him. "I dreamed of you, too. Some of my girlfriends would dream of movie characters, like James Bond. They were never quite good enough, though. It was always you in the dream. I just didn't know your name until I met you."  
  
He kissed her. "You wouldn't trade me for James Bond?"  
  
"Not a chance, Horatio. You're first. He's only 007, remember. It isn't even close."  
  
He kissed her more deeply, finally coming up for air. "If you had a number assigned to you, know what it would be?"  
  
"At the moment, 8 ½." That's what she felt like, anyway.  
  
"Wrong." His sparkling blue eyes teased hers, with a sincerity behind the teasing that took her breath away. "10. The only choice for you. A perfect 10."  
  
She went into his arms willingly, even though it gave her a backache at the moment. She didn't care. Rosalind could take a number herself and wait her turn. They snuggled as closely as they could under the circumstances, just holding each other, the contact saying all that needed to be said. Finally, unwillingly, Calleigh's brain became aware of the television in the background. The tape had stopped and was rewinding itself by now, and the channel only had some stupid sitcom on. The canned laughter grated on her, but the remote was on his side of the couch. "Horatio."  
  
"Hmmm?" he murmured into her hair.  
  
"The TV is still on."  
  
He broke the contact just long enough to look at her directly. Obviously, it was no longer distracting him. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." He pulled her head against his chest, shutting her ears with his hands, planting a trail of kisses across her hair. By the time Calleigh was able to hear the television again, he had thoroughly won her over to his point of view.  
  
***  
  
Z sat at his desk, which was large but understated in design. No nameplate of any sort adorned it, only a simple plaque which read, "The alphabet stops here." Two phones were on the desk, a white phone and a blue phone. He looked up from paperwork as the ringing started but ignored both of those instruments, unlocking his desk drawer instead and removing the red phone, only a slightly raised eyebrow testifying to the rarity of that particular phone ringing. "Z. Yes. Is that so? How long ago? Indeed. I'll get our best people on it right away. Of course. Inform the President he has nothing to worry about." Z hung up the red phone, relocked the desk, and picked up the white phone. "Money-Tengrand?" (A/N: Isn't inflation outrageous?)  
  
"Yes," came the smooth, always unruffled voice of the consummate secretary.  
  
"Where are Agents 1 and 10?"  
  
"They're on a mission at the moment."  
  
"Well, tell them to pull out. Immediately."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh broke away just long enough to give him a look of pure feminine adoration. "Horatio. I can't find the words."  
  
He gave her a look of pure masculine approval. "Well, let me try and enlarge your vocabulary." His lips closed hers.  
  
The ringing cell phone brought them reluctantly apart. He reached into the pocket of his discarded jacket as she reached into the pocket of hers, and they gave each other identical confused looks as they held mute phones and the ringing continued. Horatio picked his jacket up, held it to his ear, then unbuttoned the hidden inner compartment. His eyes met hers with surprise. "Calleigh, it's the purple cell phone."  
  
She straightened up. "The purple cell phone? Are you sure?" He extracted it and held it up for inspection as they both tilted an ear toward it respectfully. It was indeed ringing. Horatio snapped it open.  
  
"Agent 1. Yes. Understood." He closed the phone and returned it to its hideaway. "Special assignment for us, Cal. I'm sorry, but we'll have to cut this delightful interlude short."  
  
Resigned, she scrambled to her feet and started to collect her clothes. "This had better be good, Horatio. I need you."  
  
His regretful eyes met hers. "So does America."  
  
***  
  
Horatio and Calleigh entered the inner sanctum of headquarters. Z spotted them immediately. "Good morning, 1, 10. Mission successful?"  
  
They looked at each other. "On and off," Calleigh remarked.  
  
"Good." Z stepped up to a display board. "Recently, the government has been working on a top secret drug detection program which would allow all boats to be scanned by satellite and all known illegal drugs detected instantly."  
  
"Impressive," said Horatio.  
  
"Quite. However, earlier this morning, we received word that the program has been stolen. A ransom demand, to be precise, but the mastermind made it clear that he's putting this on the open market, as well. The implications of this program falling into the wrong hands are obvious."  
  
Calleigh nodded. "Drug pirates."  
  
"Your assignment is to recover the program as quickly as possible, before it gets sold to another party."  
  
"Understood," Horatio said. "Do we have any leads?"  
  
"One. The contact for the ransom is a man named Sellout. He is frequently found at a club in Miami." Z handed them the address.  
  
"Will that be all, sir?" asked Calleigh.  
  
"Yes. Best of luck. Keep us informed of developments."  
  
Horatio and Calleigh turned away and started out of headquarters. "This shouldn't take too long," Horatio commented.  
  
"Why do you think that?"  
  
"We have some unfinished business that I'm, shall we say, eager to get back to."  
  
Calleigh's eyes dove into his deep blue ones. "I hate unfinished business."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
Q approached them, the bustling, white-haired man as eager as a child in a toyshop, as always. "1. 10. I've got some new equipment for you."  
  
"What we have is sufficient," Horatio commented sotto voce, letting his eyes run admiringly over Calleigh. She stepped on his foot to bring his mind back to business, but her eyes were pleased.  
  
Q didn't even notice the comment. "Yes, here's the latest in surveillance equipment. Perfect since you're going to Miami." He held out two pair of sunglasses.  
  
"Sunglasses?" Horatio picked up a pair and tried them on.  
  
Q looked offended. "Not just sunglasses. Here are the pocket controls for them. These sunglasses look normal, but they actually will allow you to see microscopically, telescopically, and do chemical and thermal analysis at the push of a button."  
  
"Really?" Calleigh tried on her own pair, hitting the appropriate button and surveying Horatio microscopically. "Those could be useful."  
  
Horatio was right with her. "Yes, I'm sure we'll find them indispensable. Thank you, Q." He started to reach for the other object which the man had set down on a table. "What about this? What does it do?"  
  
Q snatched it away. "That's my lunch."  
  
***  
  
Horatio and Calleigh entered the club and spoke briefly to a waiter, who indicated a man sitting at a table alone. They approached. "Sellout?" The man looked up, weighed their appearance monetarily, and decided they were worth his notice. He nodded. Horatio held a chair for Calleigh, then sat down next to her. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Caine. Horatio Caine. I understand that you represent a party we might be interested in doing business with."  
  
Sellout nodded. "The price will not be low, you understand."  
  
"We're willing to pay for quality merchandise," said Calleigh.  
  
Sellout eyed her appreciatively. "There are other interested parties, but I must admit, they might find your figure hard to match." Horatio let out a low growl, and Calleigh put one hand on his arm, giving him a grateful but warning squeeze. Sellout chuckled and started to remove a roll of microfilm from his pocket. "Just a preview of the goods, so that you know this is the genuine article." Just then, a waiter approached the table and whispered into his ear. "Excuse me. I have an urgent phone call." He slid his chair back and headed for the phone booths. Horatio and Calleigh gave each other one look and followed surreptitiously. They were just in time to see Sellout's dead body hit the ground. Horatio bent over him, feeling for a pulse. Calleigh bent over him, feeling for microfilm. Neither was successful.  
  
"Looks like Sellout has made his last sale," Horatio said. They bolted for the door with perfect unison of thought, racing for the parking lot. Horatio, with longer legs, was there first, but as he caught the back door of the fleeing van, he held it open, waiting for Calleigh, giving her a light boost in and following her. "After you, Cal." Her smile was his reward.  
  
They settled into each other's arms in the van. "A hired assassin, don't you think?" Calleigh speculated.  
  
Horatio nodded. "There's one recently out of prison. His name is Jaws XIII."  
  
"Jaws XIII?" Calleigh hadn't heard of that one.  
  
"He was only Jaws when he went in," Horatio explained. "But while he was in prison, the movie company sued him for copyright infringement, saying he was selling a product under the same name as their film series. He got a stiff fine and was legally ordered to cease all operations under the title Jaws. Ergo, Jaws XIII."  
  
Calleigh shivered. Horatio took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Cold?"  
  
"A bit. Do you have any ideas for warming me up?"  
  
"Let's see if I can think of something." Horatio swept her into his arms, and the van sped on through the night. In the cab, Jaws XIII, who had heard the entire conversation, clicked his metal teeth together in frustration. Delivering his merchandise could wait. Anyone who reminded him of his failed legal battle against the movie company deserved to die. He turned the van for a new destination.  
  
***  
  
The van jolted to a stop, and Horatio and Calleigh straightened up and instantly slipped out of the van doors. They were in a car sales lot. They ducked behind a nearby vehicle as the driver's door of the van opened and footsteps approached. Jaws XIII himself, teeth shining in the security lights, peered into the back of the van and growled. Horatio drew his gun. "Jaws," he called, straightening up. His eyes met Calleigh's with perfect, silent communication, and she edged off to find better transportation than the old van. The assassin whirled and clicked his teeth together threateningly. "Oh, I'm sorry," Horatio apologized. "I'm not supposed to call you Jaws anymore, am I? It's Jaws XIII now." The teeth ground together so intensely now that sparks flew. Horatio pointed the gun. "Give me the microfilm." Jaws hesitated, eying the gun. He might survive a shot to the mouth, but not to the heart. Reluctantly, he tossed the microfilm down. Horatio started forward, still pointing the gun. "Back up. I'm not falling for that trick." Jaws backed slowly, and Horatio crouched without taking his eyes off him and found the microfilm by feel, pocketing it securely. He straightened back up just as Calleigh drove up in a new H2.  
  
"Get in, Horatio," she called.  
  
"A Hummer? Well, I guess we might as well steal the best."  
  
"We aren't stealing it," she replied. "Before I hotwired it, I slipped a piece of paper with the agency's credit card number and a note under the windshield wiper of the car next door. I've always wanted a Hummer." She flexed her hands on the wheel appreciatively. "Care to join me?"  
  
Calleigh driving a Hummer was even sexier than Calleigh in a van. "Be right there," Horatio replied silkily. He sidled to the vehicle without taking his eyes or his gun off Jaws, opened the door, and darted in as quickly as he could. Calleigh floored it, but the vehicle held still as Jaws caught the back bumper. Jaws XIII and H2 entered a brief tug of war, and then the Hummer sprang free, leaving Jaws flexing his aching fingers. Calleigh smiled at him in the rear view mirror. "Don't mess with a Hummer," she advised.  
  
Horatio rested his eyes - but not, at the moment, his hands - on her. "Or with Agent 10."  
  
***  
  
In a small hotel room in Miami, they inspected the microfilm. "Just an advertisement," Calleigh sighed. "The most important pages are missing."  
  
"Wait a second." Horatio snapped on his sunglasses and turned on the microscope. "Close in on that little etching at the side, Cal. There's a trace of whatever the plans were resting on when they were filmed."  
  
Calleigh put on her own sunglasses. "You're right. Horatio, I think that's the outer edge of the seal of Topdog Shipping Lines."  
  
"Right as always, Cal. Mr. Topdog is a private boating enthusiast, too. He has a house in the Florida Keys, doesn't he?"  
  
"Right as always, Horatio." They shared a look of mutual admiration before heading back out to the Hummer.  
  
***  
  
Horatio stepped smoothly from the Hummer and approached the house with Calleigh at his side. "We would like to see Mr. Topdog, please." The maid headed off with a pout. She was used to being appreciated by men, but Calleigh knocked her socks off, and all three of them, especially Horatio, knew it. He barely gave the maid a glance. Who bothered with eye candy when the whole bakery with all its rich variety was available?  
  
Mr. Topdog entered the foyer of his vast estate. "May I help you?"  
  
"Yes. We are reporters for Boating Fanatic doing a story about private yachts. We understand you have some remarkable examples."  
  
Topdog eyed them with a blend of suspicion and enthusiasm. Like most people, though, he couldn't resist talking about his passion. In the next 30 minutes, they had a brief tour of the five yachts he had docked at his private beach, as well as being shown pictures of some of his others. They parted amiably enough, but after they left, Topdog collected the two ship in a glass ball paperweights he had handed them and popped them into his personal fingerprint developer. Tapping into his private, unofficial link to AFIS, he received an answer almost immediately. "Horatio and Calleigh Caine. Licensed to heal. Top agents with impeccable records." He scowled at the screen. Just the sort of people he hated, people who valued other things more than money. Again, he cursed his luck that Sellout had stolen the microfilm pictures from Topdog and started his own dealings. Topdog pulled out his cell phone. The phone was answered with a wordless grunt. "Jaws XIII? I have another assignment for you."  
  
***  
  
"What did you think of the boats?" Calleigh asked, admiring Horatio's easy handling of the Hummer as they approached Miami again.  
  
"One of them caught my eye. One of the pictured ones. The Trojan Horse. There's just something not quite right about that design."  
  
Calleigh nodded. "I saw that, too. I'd love to get a closer look at that ship."  
  
"Put in a call to Z and see if we can get a location on it, please."  
  
"Sure thing, Handsome." The conversation was short and to the point. Calleigh turned back to Horatio when she had ended the call. "He'll have it checked. He also verified that the car dealership found my note with the official credit card number. So the agency now owns a Hummer. I told him we would accept that as pay for this mission."  
  
"I heard," Horatio said approvingly. "I could easily get used to this." He gave the dash an appreciative pat.  
  
"So could I," said Calleigh. "Lots of room in case we need it."  
  
"Indeed." Horatio glanced into the back, then tightened up. "Jaws XIII is on a motorcycle following us. I saw the teeth flash in the sun."  
  
Calleigh sighed. "Ever get the feeling someone doesn't like you?"  
  
"Frequently," Horatio replied. "Well, we'll see what our new Hummer can do." He floored it with controlled urgency, and the massive vehicle leaped in response. The gap immediately widened. Jaws responded by opening the throttle on his motorcycle, closing the distance again. When he started to fire, Horatio had had enough. "What's a Hummer for, after all?" he commented to Calleigh, turning the wheel. The Hummer efficiently left the road, making its own path. The last they saw of Jaws, his motorcycle was bogged down in a heavy patch of mud. The Hummer rolled on.  
  
***  
  
The Trojan Horse loomed on the ocean horizon. Horatio and Calleigh, in the Coast Guard boat, studied it carefully. There was indeed something not quite right about the design. The Coast Guard pulled alongside and boarded, but as they started to search the ship, Topdog himself appeared, holding a gun. It was aimed straight at Horatio. "Horatio Caine, Agent #1. You are beginning to make yourself a nuisance, Mr. Caine."  
  
The Coast Guard personnel froze. Horatio spoke as smoothly as ever, hands on his hips, refusing to break eye contact. "Why do you want more money, Topdog? You have everything you could want."  
  
Topdog actually flinched. "Why do I want more money? What sort of a question is that?"  
  
"Money can't buy everything," Horatio pointed out.  
  
"What can't it buy?"  
  
"Love, for instance," said Horatio, resisting the temptation to look at Calleigh. She was edging sideways surreptitiously while Horatio held Topdog's attention.  
  
"You obviously haven't looked in the right stores," Topdog commented.  
  
"Your problem is that you have looked in stores," Horatio replied. "You stole the drug tracking system to get more money, didn't you? You were going to set up as a drug pirate yourself, using this ship with its special cargo holds, but Sellout sold you out. Then, you tried to get Jaws to kill us, but he failed. So hard to find reliable help these days, isn't it?"  
  
Topdog raised the gun. "As much as I'm enjoying this conversation, it has come to an end. Farewell, Mr. Caine. That word has such a nice ring of permanency to it." Before he could tighten on the trigger, though, another shot split the air, and he leaped back, holding his bleeding wrist, letting the gun fall from nerveless fingers.  
  
"Au revoir, Topdog," Calleigh corrected. "In court, to be precise."  
  
Horatio crossed to Calleigh as the Coast Guard took Topdog and the ship's crew into custody. "Nice work. Maybe you should consider a transfer to SWAT."  
  
Calleigh's dizzying eyes met his dazzling ones. "I'm too attached to my partner to change anything."  
  
"He's one lucky man, then. And he knows it," Horatio assured her.  
  
"His partner is pretty lucky, too," Calleigh replied. "Now, then, since this mission is almost over, I believe we never finished our last one."  
  
"How inefficient of us," Horatio said silkily. "Would tonight suit you to finish it?"  
  
"It's a good starting point, anyway," Calleigh said. They smiled at each other and joined hands as they continued searching the boat, finding the tracking system in the control house.  
  
***  
  
Jaws XIII finally managed to pry himself but not the motorcycle out of the deep mud. He tried to hitchhike, but no one would pick him up. It was long past midnight when he arrived back at Topdog's estate, having walked all the way. Police cars were waiting for him. "Jaws XIII? You are under arrest for copyright infringement. Two agents claimed today that an assassin by the name of Jaws was trying to kill them. You have been given due notice to cease and desist all assassinous activities under that name. Therefore, you have violated the conditions of your parole." The policeman stepped forward. Jaws went ballistic. It took the tazer to subdue him.  
  
***  
  
Horatio and Calleigh settled in the back of their Hummer. "Now," he said. "For unfinished business. But first. . ." He pulled his pair of sunglasses out of his discarded jacket, slipped them on smoothly, and hit the button for thermal analysis before he set the control aside. "Hmmm. I'm seeing some serious hot flashes." He studied her appreciatively.  
  
Calleigh put her own sunglasses on as she slipped her own jacket off. "Horatio, it isn't just me." She analyzed him in turn.  
  
"No, indeed, I'm having them, too," he admitted. "Let's see what we can do about that."  
  
They could do quite a lot about it, actually.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh gave a sensuous sigh and rolled over, coming awake with a thud as her distended abdomen landed against the sheets like a bowling ball. Reluctantly, she left the dream for her current reality. Not that there was really anything wrong with her current reality. The dream smile remained on her face as she studied Horatio, who was sound asleep. Agent #1, she thought. All other men she had met in her life, many of them good friends and wonderful people, were fatally flawed. They simply were not him. And now, he was all hers. Shortly, she would have his child. Calleigh lay there watching him lovingly, resting one hand across Rosalind, anticipating seeing him holding his daughter. That would beat any dream. Just a few more weeks, she thought. Just a few more weeks. She was still smiling when she drifted back off to sleep.  
  
*** ***  
  
Next on CSI:Miami: Fearful Symmetry: The big story. "Complications." As Horatio and Calleigh await Rosalind's birth, complications suddenly set in on all fronts. And the biggest of those complications is named Stewart Otis. 


End file.
